Bedded for the Spaniard's Pleasure. Кэрол Мортимер
herself to move into seemed overwhelming to Cairo.
And this indecisiveness was Rafe’s fault, too!
Because Cairo had allowed herself to relax during the last twenty-four hours, to just let herself be, to exist, to let herself revel in the fact that, after years of making films back to back, she had no pressing work pressures for the next two weeks, when she was due to begin rehearsals for the lead in the London play she had agreed to appear in.
Now Rafe, with his unwanted presence here, was forcing her into once again making decisions, when it was the last thing she felt like doing.
She desperately blinked back the tears of frustration. She wouldn’t cry. She would not!
So if she wasn’t going to be ‘sad,’ then she would just have to get ‘mad’. And Rafe Montero was the obvious person for her to get mad at!
‘Are you coming in for a swim or not?’ Rafe leant his arms on the side of the pool as he looked across at her.
He had been totally aware of Cairo the last hour or so as she lay so still and silent on a lounger beside the pool, not reading a book or magazine but just staring off into the distance.
She looked even more slender now that she had removed the overlong T-shirt to reveal that she wore only a brief black bikini beneath; there didn’t seem to be an ounce of superfluous flesh on those long silky limbs.
Long, silky limbs that had more than once been entwined with his…
‘No, I’m not coming in for a swim,’ she answered him tersely now. ‘Rafe, you must see that we have to talk about—about the awkwardness, of this situation…?’
Yes, of course he knew the two of them had to talk. Dammit, he was no more happy about finding himself practically alone here with Cairo—young Daisy apart— than she obviously was at having him here.
But neither did he think it was a good idea to have Daisy witness an argument between her aunty Cairo and her ‘uncle’ Rafe, especially when—as it was sure to!—it resulted in the two of them saying things it would be much better for Daisy not to hear.
His mouth thinned. ‘Cairo, how does Daisy seem to you?’
‘Seem to me?’ she repeated with a frowning glance at the little girl playing at the other end of the pool by throwing a coin into the water before diving in to collect it.
‘Dammit, Cairo.’ Rafe quickly ascended the steps that led out of the pool. ‘How long is it since you’ve seen or cared about anyone but yourself?’ he demanded as he stood beside her to pick up a towel and begin drying his hair.
Cairo gasped at his accusing tone. ‘That is totally unfair, Rafe!’ It was also totally unfair what his semi-nakedness was doing to her heart-rate as he leisurely dried himself off with the towel!
‘Is it?’ he challenged grimly as he moved to sit down on the lounger next to hers. ‘Tell me what you see when you look at Daisy,’ he ordered.
Cairo stared at him rebelliously for several long seconds before turning her attention to her young niece. ‘I see…a little girl having fun playing in the pool,’ she said.
‘Look again, Cairo. Closer,’ he insisted as she would have protested.
Cairo bit back her resentment at his arrogant tone as she turned her attention back to Daisy. Tall for her age, with shoulder-length golden hair and blue eyes, Daisy looked to her like any other healthy, happy six-year-old on holiday.
Or did she…?
Now that Cairo thought about it, before Rafe’s arrival earlier, Daisy hadn’t been as chatty this last twenty-four hours. Oh, her niece had played in the pool yesterday and, this morning, had helped Cairo prepare their meals, but she had been less gregarious than usual, less spontaneous, less inclined to do anything, and had refused absolutely to go to the local shops with Cairo this morning so that they could restock on food. Cairo had put this uncharacteristic lack of cooperation down to tiredness after their journey, but what if that wasn’t the reason?
Cairo turned frowningly back to Rafe. ‘You think she’s worried about Margo?’
His mouth twisted derisively. ‘What do you think?’
Not knowing how much Daisy actually knew about Margo’s condition, Cairo wasn’t really sure how to answer that question.
Maybe Rafe was right. Maybe Cairo had been too wrapped up in her own problems just recently to give anyone else’s a thought. Although she certainly didn’t thank Rafe for being the one to point that out—until now she hadn’t even known he liked children, let alone understood Daisy’s moods.
She sat up on the lounger. ‘Perhaps I should sit down with her and calmly explain that Margo just needs to rest for a few weeks because her blood pressure is a little high—’
‘And you think a little girl of six will be reassured by that explanation?’ Rafe said sarcastically.
Colour warmed Cairo’s cheeks at his intended rebuke. ‘I think it might be worth a try, yes!’
He scowled. ‘If that’s the extent of your knowledge of children, perhaps it’s as well that you and Bond never had any!’
Cairo gasped incredulously at his scorn, the fact that she had thought exactly the same thing following her separation from Lionel not important at that moment; Rafe certainly hadn’t meant it in the same way she did.
‘Look at yourself, Cairo.’ Rafe’s gaze ran over her with scathing dismissal. ‘Perfect hair. Perfect skin. Perfect teeth. Too-perfect body. Perfect damned everything! At least you looked human eight years ago; now you just look like every other perfect Hollywood actress!’
Cairo felt her cheeks pale at his deliberately insulting tone. It was too much on top of everything else she had gone through the last eight years.
She stood up. ‘When I want your opinion, I’ll ask for it— Let go of me, Rafe!’ she instructed between gritted teeth as he reached out to curl long fingers about her wrist.
A too-slender wrist, Rafe decided even as he felt the creamy softness of her skin beneath his fingers, his gaze moving down to her hand now, the long, slender fingers completely bare of rings. Although there was a slightly whiter band of skin on the third finger of her left hand where her wedding ring and that huge rock that Bond had bought her as an engagement ring used to be….
‘I don’t think so,’ he challenged softly, even as his fingers tightened about her wrist.
Dark sunglasses hid the emotion in her eyes, but the pallor of her cheeks and the unhappy curve of her mouth were evidence of her rising anger.
She was angry? After years of deliberately blocking any memory of Cairo from his mind, Rafe had been forced to relive every single one of them during the last hour. It hadn’t improved his temper at all.
His mouth compressed into a thin line. ‘How’s your career, Cairo?’
Her eyes narrowed with suspicion. ‘The last time I looked it was just fine, thank you.’
‘Really?’ Rafe taunted.
‘Yes—really!’ she grated.
Rafe shrugged. ‘You can’t live on the publicity of the divorce for ever, you know. At some time in the not too distant future you’ll have to get back to work.’
Cairo’s palm itched, her free hand actually aching from the effort it took to stop herself from slapping that arrogant smile from Rafe’s mockingly curved lips.
He grimaced. ‘I’m just trying to be helpful—’
‘When I want your advice, I’ll ask for it!’ Her eyes flashed an unmistakable warning.
He quirked dark brows. ‘Which would be never—right?’
‘Right!’
‘I’m